


In Your Skin

by rubycrowned



Series: In Your Skin [1]
Category: 1D - Fandom, One Direction, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, lourry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubycrowned/pseuds/rubycrowned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sick of all the insincere so I'm gonna give all my secrets away (Just don't let me disappear, I'ma tell you everything)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Lourry coming-out oneshot, thats pretty much all this is. unbeta'd (although thankyou ari love for reading over it) and inspired by 'In Your Skin' by Lifehouse and 'Secrets' by OneRepublic. Also references about 1289837 real life moments so sorry bout that if it causes pain.

Fear is stifling.

It doesn’t start off that way. No. First you’re invincible and you are going to do everything your way or not at all.

Speak the way you want to speak.

Act how you’ve always acted.

Love who you love.

Occasionally you might hesitate because no one, no teenager ever, has been completely free of self-doubt; of the insecurity that people are watching you, judging you, for every move you make. You’re no different.

But you try not to let it affect you. You’re still certain, still sure in who you are.

You don’t notice the way that the hesitation is growing, creeping, maturing into something thick and dark.

You don’t realise that it’s consumed you until you open your mouth to speak and your throat is being strangled by black cords that are no longer wispy tendrils of uncertainty; they’re steel cables of terror.

And you look around and realise that you don’t know what happened to your life. Everything has changed around you and you thought you’d stayed the same, because you were always going to be  _you_  and damn the consequences. That was the plan, but now you can’t speak. And when you manage to choke something past the vice on your throat, it tastes bitter.

Like a lie.

You still know the truth, the heart of the matter. What it is that makes you you – then, now and always; withstanding and despite everything.

But you’re still looking around, searching.

And you can’t find  _that_  you anywhere.

***

“Eleanor? Yeah, uh, she’s good. Her holidays are almost over now, but yeah. Good.”

Louis can hear Liam picking up the slack on the relationship question and telling the interviewer about Danielle’s surprise birthday for him, complete with Batman-themed cake. He only has to pipe up with a “Uh, yeah, guess it is a bit” and a weak laugh when the interviewer tries to turn it back to Lou and Eleanor, referring to the fact that Louis’ cake for Eleanor’s birthday had also been from The Cake Store and maybe it was becoming a One Direction tradition. He spends the rest of his attention trying not to focus on the way Harry sits silently next to him, picking at his bracelets and rubbing at the tattoos engraved into his wrist.

At least they aren’t asked about Larry Stylinson this time. They haven’t been asked about that for a while now and Louis has a suspicion it’s been written into the conditions for their interviews. He’s grateful to be honest, even if they weren’t told about it. It’s so much effort trying to dispel the rumours when asked point blank about his and Harry’s relationship. When Louis can’t bring himself to tell the truth but also can’t force himself to directly lie either. When Harry’s entire being shuts down and can’t make a sound.  _Can’t change._  Unlike Louis, Harry won’t change.

Sometimes Louis wants to just be done with it all, to yell the truth at the top of his lungs and let everyone know that he- and then the cold seeping fear blocks his voice and his windpipes and he  _can’t breathe_. And the same, worn out half-truths worm their way out of his mouth.

***

The truth is this.

The truth is that Louis Tomlinson fell for Harry Styles within minutes of meeting him. Or maybe it’s not the truth, maybe that part came later. But the unbreakable string which tied eighteen-years-young Louis to sixteen-years-old Harry – clumsy and smiling and so,  _so_ young and shiny and new – was there almost immediately, so soon that Louis can’t name a moment between them where that constant tugging at his ribcage wasn’t present.

The truth is that Louis was dating Hannah at the time; it was real, or it was real at the time. It was all Louis had ever experienced up until that moment; all he knew. By the time Louis auditioned for the X-Factor, maybe things were wearing themselves out a little already. And then Louis met Harry and- Hannah was the best friend Louis could have hoped for in those moments. There were some tears – on both sides – but Hannah could see what was growing within Louis. What he was only just starting to recognise himself; something unfamiliar and  _big_. She let him go.

The truth is that Harry became his best mate and then rapidly progressed to the most important person in his life ( _“You’re so much more than my best friend Haz,_ that’s _why I said Stan.”_ ), faster than Louis would have thought possible. When it segued into something more – something physical as well as heart and soul – and  _finally_ everything seemed to fall into place, it was as natural as inhaling, feeling the curls of heat envelop his body while burns were branded into every inch of skin that Harry touched; it was as natural as exhaling and hearing Harry’s name moaned out with it, low and breathless.

The truth is that, regardless of what happened in public or what the media churned out for the masses, Harry is Louis’ and Louis is his. And that isn’t something Louis can see changing any time soon. Ever, if he gets his way.

The truth is that Harry is Louis’ sun and stars and everything in the gaps between. He’s the shift of the tide and the blossom in the spring and if it was someone telling Louis these things then he’d probably tear them to pieces with his teasing, but. Harry is everything.

The truth is that Louis is in love with Harry.

These are the truths that Louis tells himself at night, staring at the ceiling with Harry’s limbs wrapped around him; in the morning, while he convinces himself that he  _can_  get out of bed today, can face the life he doesn’t quite recognise anymore. In every single moment that Louis can spot Harry’s face freezing, falling, trying to pick itself up when Louis allows – even takes part in – the world’s mockery of their relationship.

Because there are more truths.

The truth is, Louis and Harry were always pretty shit at hiding their feelings. At restricting touches and looks, the not-so-subtle jibes and innuendo. And yeah, the ones in charge of them weren’t necessarily impressed, gave hints to the media that maybe Harry was seen hooking up with women x, y and z; that maybe Louis was getting a bit more than friendly with Eleanor, a girl he’d become mates with a while back.

But then they were given a choice.

And the truth lies here.

The truth is that Louis could have chosen to stop the lies before they’d ever really begun. Could have held Harry’s hand and stood in the light; shown everyone that he was  _him_  and no-one else.

The truth is that Louis – loud, obnoxious, unapologetic Louis – cowered when the time came. Froze and made the other choice; Harry wouldn’t allow him to think it was the wrong choice ( _it’s not forever; it’s okay babe, I understand_ ) but it certainly didn’t feel right. Not when their lives are now a tangled web of public presentations and private apologies; of not-quite-lies and of hidden truths.

The truth is that Louis doesn’t deserve Harry. Steadfast and certain Harry. Who would have taken the leap then and there, not once looking at the distance they might fall, if only they tripped or stumbled at the last second, if they misjudged the gap from here to there. Harry, who Louis breaks a little more, every time he walks out the door. Harry, who inks himself with permanent reminders for the world to see, to question and theorise over; marks himself with memories and heartache and, above all,  _truth_  unspoken. The very truth that Louis has suppressed.

The truth is that it is him that chose to use Eleanor as a cover. Not in so many words, but it was him who swayed the hand. And who agreed – still agrees – to each of the consequent demands of him.

The truth is that, with a little bit of warning to the right people, he could back out of this at any moment, and hold his head high once more.

The truth is that he doesn’t.

The truth is that he’s still scared.

The truth.

Sometimes it might set you free.

But sometimes it just sends you running for cover, hiding from the fallout.

***

Recording the new album is familiar and fantastic and a break from the mad schedule of the past few months.

But it’s also an even tougher regimen of public displays and lies and being apart from the one person this was all supposed to be for ( _except who was it really for, Louis?_ ).

They’ve been so  _good_  lately, in the eyes of those watching them, those whose perception would put a hawk’s to shame in their uncanny ability to notice even the slightest of affection between them. They don’t go out together as often, are seen at different events with different people. Louis attempts to put forward a good show as ‘boyfriend’ to Eleanor – trips and birthday cakes and oh so many public outings with their entourage of pre-warned paparazzi and the odd minder.

Occasionally the truth slips through, whether intentional or not. Whether it’s in the way Louis would like to in an ideal world or not.

 _It’s actually hard to deal with as I am in a relationship. Me and Harry are best friends…it is actually affecting the way me and Harry are in public_.

It’s the truth, in a sense (a misplaced, warped one, Louis thinks, but still). Slowly but surely, Louis feels the distance between them growing – appearing, really, for the first time in the history of their knowing each other because never had two people been so instantly glued together, irremovable without tearing the other in the process.

It’s not enough to break them; they’re too strong for that, Louis is certain (except for those moments in the dark of night when Eleanor is sleeping in the spare room and Harry is still out with Nick at some club; not crowding the space in Louis’ side carved just for him). But Louis misses Harry even when he’s right next to him, knowing he can’t just reach out and pull him into an easy cuddle like he would only months ago, like he still can with any of the other boys. He misses their stupid, sappy tweets they would send to each other – layered with just enough laughter to convince the world it was just their ridiculous friendship once more – now long gone ( _Always in my heart @Harry_Styles. Yours sincerely, Louis_ ).

He throws himself into the work to be done in preparation for their new single’s release. Tries to ignore the ache deep in his chest when Harry txts him from Reading and he gets alerts from twitter and instagram; photos of him looking alternatively homeless and like a raging dork. He sings for hours on end, stays in and tries to banish the memories of a different festival.

He determinedly doesn’t look in the drawer where two worn bracelets – one almost frayed beyond recognition – lie tangled together under photos and keepsakes from their travels.

***

The end of summer passes so fast into the start of autumn that it makes Louis’ head spin.

They’re back into the swing of interviews and promo now that their recording is almost complete, the filming of their new single’s music video done and dusted (an exercise in self-control that Louis’ not entirely sure he passed, but he hadn’t seen the final cut yet; couldn’t yet judge just how much of the video involved Louis’ gaze dragging over Harry’s torso, soaked and see-through shirt clinging deliciously to his skin).

“We’re really looking forward to the VMAs,” Liam’s rehearsed response comes across earnest and sincere - as always - in one of said interviews, “It’s quite nerve-racking as well, because obviously there’s been so many historical moments and stuff that have happened at the VMAs. Now we want to make a moment ourselves, but who knows?”

Louis’ not entirely sure they’ll manage a ‘historical’ moment exactly but, regardless, it’s going to be the first time they perform ‘Live While We’re Young’ outside of the studio, an important moment for them at least.

It will be the first time they can gauge the response for their new music – still mostly upbeat, light-hearted pop, but special to the five of them because this time it truly feels like theirs; their words, their music. A step in the right direction (no pun intended) for them to eventually release a more mature sound; an album filled with the tracks which each of the boys still keep close to their chest for the most part. An album filled with their own joys and fears, lyrics which are more than a catchy tune with barely hinted-at depth. Because Louis loves their music – he really, truly does – but he knows there’s so much more to them, if only they’re given the chance to prove it.

That and if they have to perform What Makes You Beautiful many more times Louis might actually strangle himself with one of Niall’s guitar strings.

***

The night of the VMAs is a blur of noise and nausea and excitement interrupted by bright flashes, snapshots of startling clarity.

Flash.

They win.

And yes it was a fan-voted award. And their fans were nothing if not dedicated.

But this was an MTV VMA.

And they were up against some of the best in the pop-music business.

Flash.

It’s stuttered speeches, far too many ‘ _massive thank-you_ ’s and teary hugs onstage as they cling to each other and it’s almost like they’re back at X-Factor and they’ve been told they’ve been put through. That feeling that it can’t possibly get better than this; maybe we can do anything. Just watch us soar.

Flash.

Harry’s arms are around him and his fingers are digging into his shoulder and his hip and he’s not letting go and they just won an award and he can’t really tell where any of the boys end and the next begins so who the fuck cares. Louis’ grin is almost as big as Harry’s, lighting the entire room.

Flash.

They’re backstage and Louis thinks he might puke. Because they might’ve just won an award but not for this. This is new and unknown and what if this is the moment everything starts going downhill? What if they’ve already reached their peak?

But Harry’s rubbing Louis’ back, kneading the spot between his shoulder blades, and it centres him.

This is what’s real. What will always be there waiting, no matter what happens in the other parts of their life. He remembers the truth.

Flash.

They’re performing and the harmonies sound even better, richer than Louis could recall from rehearsals.

The audience are lapping it up and maybe it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but the younger stars are standing and clapping along, swaying to the tune and quickly picking up what words they can from the easy rhythm of the chorus.

Louis hadn’t realised how much he’d missed performing.

Flash.

And Harry is right next to him, sweat beading on his forehead; a mix of heat from the lights, nerves and exertion.

He is looking – staring – at Louis, his smile looks it would split his face in half as his lips stretch to form the shape of words; of youth and seize the day and being the person you want to be. Louis never wants him to stop.

Flash.

Louis thinks back to what Liam had said, about making this a historic moment.

And Louis doesn’t know what the rest of the world would think of it, hell, he’s not even entirely sure what the other boys would think. But the truth Harry pressed through his t-shirt into his skin backstage is still pumping through his blood and Louis wants to hold onto it.

He wants to stop lying. He wants to stop feel like fear is poisoning every action (and inaction) and word (and silence). He wants their new single to be untainted – to not make him feel like a hypocrite every time he sings it.

Flash.

Harry’s lips are swollen from being worried at with teeth the entire night, waiting. They’re dry from the stage lights and constantly swiping his tongue over them. They’re still, frozen with surprise when Louis makes no effort to hide his movement from the hundreds of people, and the almost as numerous cameras.

It’s not the best kiss they’ve ever shared. Probably doesn’t even break the top twenty.

But it’s one of the most honest.

Flash.

This isn’t the end. Far from it.

Louis knows that the shit is well and truly about to hit the fan, and it’s going to take a lot more than their own peace of mind to clear everything up.

There’s going to be statements to make, backlash to counteract, the entire Eleanor situation to somehow explain because technically they’re still supposed to be  _dating_  right now.

But when they finally break apart and Louis watches Harry’s emerald eyes flutter open, a slow, sweet smile forming dimples of simple joy in his red-stained cheeks – when he hears the other lads cheers and the odd wolf whistle from the crowd – it doesn’t matter so much.

The fear that had restrained him for so long is falling away, retreating to its own hiding place.

Louis can finally find his own face again in the reflection of Harry’s eyes. It’s grinning brightly while Harry, as always, stands right by his side.

No matter what.

They’d be okay.

***

**Author's Note:**

> also just thought i'd mention how close i was to finishing this with an interview between the boys and ellen omg (thank you for all that damn feels whoever made that fanvid, i'm sorry idk where it was from)


End file.
